These Vengeful Souls

by Tarun Shanker

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “We usually weren’t able to solve hers,” Sebastian said. “Either her clues were too difficult, or we were abysmal at guessing. The one time I do remember solving hers, the secret was a very straightforward tract explaining why she liked ants.”

  “Ants?” I asked.

  He smiled. “She was always a mystery.”

  “Then you never found the rest of her secrets?” I asked.

  “I imagine they are all still hidden here somewhere,” Sebastian said, his voice a little thick. “Maybe I will find them someday. I like thinking I might.”

  “Me too,” I said, watching the water trickle by. I was glad there was still more to be learned about Mae—that kind, guileless, but somehow inscrutable girl.

  “Thank you for not killing me,” Sebastian said after a moment.

  “Thank you for not letting me,” I said, feeling another wave of relief run through me. “You could have given up. I was terrified you did when you fell unconscious.”

  “I think I dreamed of you yelling at me,” he said.

  “I have to admit, that wasn’t a dream.”

  “I thought about what you said to me that night I turned myself in,” he said, lowering himself to the ground with a little wince of pain. “About the next person who would receive my power. Maybe it would be different fourteen years from now, with the powers being public knowledge. But I still couldn’t help imagining the power first emerging. How my inheritor would more likely than not hurt the people they loved first. If I could keep that from happening … or delay it until we had a system to protect them and help them control it…”

  “We will. I promise,” I assured him. “We have a lot to do.”

  Sebastian took my hand, gently tugging me to sit, his power meeting mine in the middle. For a long while, we sat in the grass on his estate, the brilliant sun shining on us, drying the dew even as it collected on my skirts. We might be the only ones out there with these specific powers, these wonderful and terrifying abilities, but we were not alone. We had each other. We had friends who risked their lives for us. We had the power and the past lives of our predecessors somewhere deep within our souls.

  And though there was a part of me that wanted to stop thinking about the future and lie here forever, all those connections made it impossible. I had been so selfish for so long, my only real goal in life to find amusements beyond England. But I was coming to realize, there were things we had to do because we weren’t alone. There were people who needed to return home. And there were homes that needed to be returned to their people. And now that I knew that, could truly see it, I could not shrink from it.

  “Before any of this happened, I wanted so badly to travel the world.” My voice was quiet, but the air was still and he was so close. “I had no thought of leaving it a better place. Of truly helping others.”

  His calm gaze caught my nervous one and held tight. “I think you would have come around to that.”

  “But you have always helped people,” I said, my heart suddenly beating a little faster. “I don’t know what you wish to do now; you deserve rest. I know many of our friends deserve that, too. But I … I don’t think I can right now. I think I should try and do some good with this power.”

  I couldn’t look at him as I continued to voice my doubts and hopes. “I had thought, that is, I do not know where exactly to start. But I do owe Miss Rao for her help. She’s returning to India to free her country, and I know I would likely be in the way, but I could at least be there to heal her if she needed, could keep her healthy. I could be with her as she fights and, well, it just seems like a good place to start.” The words rushed out of me, and I realized I had possibly never been so nervous. I knew that Sebastian cared for me, very deeply, but I still did not know what he would say to my sudden suggestion.

  “Are you certain?” he finally asked.

  “I am.”

  “Are you absolutely certain?” His expression was deathly serious.

  “I—What do you mean?” I asked, sitting up to keep my heart from sinking. A shiver ran through me, and it almost felt like my healing was gone and I could be hurt again. He didn’t want to come. I shouldn’t have been surprised—he couldn’t be expected to drop everything and follow me across the world. But I’d assured him that I’d always stay by his side. I couldn’t break that promise.

  He took my hand in both of his, in that gentle way one delivers the worst of news. “I feel I have an obligation to tell you that your suggestion reminds me of someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone who spent the last years of his life fighting for Greece’s independence.”

  I blinked. “Oh lord.”

  “Yes, oh lord, indeed.” A wide grin broke out on Sebastian’s face, and my lips could not resist smiling—no, no, crying, definitely crying—for he was so close and so dear and, finally, so full of light. It softened the sharp angles and his eyes were a brilliant, gold-threaded green when they caught mine. I could not think of how to respond to a Sebastian like this for a long moment.

  “Fine,” I said with a deep, elegiac sigh. “There’s no avoiding it any longer. I admit it. I’m not only Byronic, I’m a Byromaniac. It’s a tragic curse.”

  “It is,” he said, pulling me down next to him, cradling me gently against his shoulder. I felt his lips on my forehead as he brushed a tingling kiss there. “But I’ll help you fight it. I’ll help you control it. I’ll go with you to India, I’ll go with you anywhere. You’ll never be in danger of taking a solitary walk on the moors or writing moody poetry, because I’ll always be with you. By your side until you’re absolutely sick of me.”

  “Good,” I said, my hand curling over his, our powers joining. “Then I think that gives us all the time in the world.”

  Epilogue

  CALCUTTA, INDIA

  NOVEMBER 27, 1884

  My friend,

  If you are reading this, I am long dead. I have been informed that this is a melodramatic and terrible way to begin a letter. My apologies, but it is also true. I pray that you are reading this far into the new century and that I was able to delay anyone receiving this power for as long as possible. But receive it you have.

  I’d like to believe that you understand more than I ever did about what this power is and what it will do, but there are a few things I wish to say, as someone who understands what you are experiencing. The first is: You are not evil. You are not in any way at fault. You have a power that might terrify you, but it does not define who you are and what actions you might take. It took me a long time and one quite insistent person to understand this. It took making many mistakes and some very evil men using me for their own ends. But that is not your fate. Your heart is your own, and you can make what choices you wish, for good or for bad.

  The second is this: You can control this power. It will take time and effort, but I promise you, it can be done. As I write this, I have been attempting to lessen my effects on others this past year and a half. It is not gone, and I don’t think it ever will be. But there is improvement. And if some days I still want to run away and hide from the world, want to flee my own skin, I try to remember that I am better now than when I started. And that is what gives me hope.

  Perhaps you will take this all very differently than I did. But if you feel, as I have at times, that you do not deserve to be counted among the good or the living, you are wrong. You deserve a life, a full one. You may just have to work a little harder than most to find that.

  Finally, I do not know what your world looks like, but if you can, look for the powerless. Look for those who are fighting for something better for everyone. Look for those who are sharing their power to create a brighter, bolder world. I can only suggest that you join them, fight alongside them, and listen to them. I can tell you that it has given my life meaning I was missing.

  And if you ever find yourself in need of help, make your way to 57, Golden Square in London, look for the sign that says
“Tuffins’s Boarding House,” and ask for Miss Rosamund Wyndham, Miss Catherine Harding, or Mr. Joseph Adeoti.

  There will always be a home there. You aren’t alone.

  Sincerely,

  Sebastian Braddock

  PS: If you meet someone who can compel you to speak the truth, avoid them at all costs. You will constantly say the wrong thing and wish you could use your power on them. It is easier to avoid them entirely.

  Acknowledgments

  THERE WERE TIMES—and more than a few—when we thought this book would never be finished. We wondered to ourselves, would it really be so terrible if the series ended at These Ruthless Deeds? Leave ’em wanting more, right?

  Well, if you’re reading these words, we can only assume the book is finished, and if that’s the case, there are a lot of people we need to thank. First, last, and always, is Holly West. Holly, you have been a lot more than just an editor to us over the past three years. (My God. Three years.) Ranging from mentor, cheerleader, therapist, head fangirl, life coach, confidante, biggest supporter, and kick-in-the-butt, you’ve suffered our hours-long phone calls, desperate last-minute changes, and pleading for extensions. And yet, against all reason, you still answer our e-mails. All the best parts of these books are because of you. Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts. You made our dreams come true three times over, and that’s not something we can easily repay, but we promise to try.

  Laura Zats, our dear agent, you are relatively new to our lives but became instantly irreplaceable. Thank you for all the support and advice you have given us so far. Having you on our team, with your fight and your verve, is the best present we could have asked for in 2017. We are so very excited to see what the future brings with you.

  The Swoon production team: To Hayley Jozwiak et al., we have not made your lives easy. You have rushed and worked late and been endlessly patient as we toss things in at the deadline. Thank you for all your work making a beautiful book with significantly fewer typos.

  Lauren Scobell, we are still suspicious you might be a figment of our imaginations. Can anyone possibly be so insightful, so cheerful, and so easygoing? All at once? It seems impossible. Thank you for all that you have done for us over the past years—the books you have piled into our arms, the squealing over great authors and OTPs, the lunches, and the brilliant input. We are so lucky you found Swoon and that you brought us into the Swoon family.

  Emily Settle: We are pretty sure you are our guardian angel. Thank you for clicking “read” on our manuscript. Thank you for telling Holly to read it. Thank you for being our advocate and friend in the years since—your e-mails have brightened our days and, on a memorably bad one, been the reason we kept writing. You are our favorite Emily, even if you don’t have telekinetic powers. Please know that in our head-canon, Emily goes on to have a life full of adventures and joy and weirdness.

  To our designers: Kathleen Breitenfeld, Rich Deas, Liz Dresner—thank you for a trilogy of stunning covers and gorgeous interiors. It is your fault that we can’t walk by masks, fans, and brooches without buying them. Our apartments are becoming a little bit weird with all our books displayed, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.

  To the people in the publishing world who have become so dear to us, we are lucky to count you as peers and friends: Allison Senecal, Gaby Salpeter, Heidi Heilig, Kerri Maniscalco, Lily Anderson, Destiny Soria, Jessica Cluess, Tara Sim, Stephanie Garber, Tracey Neithercott, Kyra Nelson, Tricia Levenseller—we are a little in awe of your talents and immensely excited to read all your future endeavors. Thank you for all your support of us—we probably wouldn’t have made it here without you. Go forth and write more books for us to devour, okay?

  To our incredible and growing Swoon Squad: Sandy Hall, Danika Stone, Jen Wilde, Lydia Albano, Shani Petroff, and all those we have not met, this journey would not be the same without you.

  Thank you to Judith Flanders for writing a fascinating, inspiring, and indispensable book about the history and culture of murder in Victorian England. And thank you to Dr. Elliot Handler and Dr. Mariam Amin for answering our creepy questions about stabbing people.

  Thank you to all our friends, you know who you are because we are going to hug you and beg you for vitamin D the second we emerge from our writing caves. We love you all so much; thank you for being patient with us.

  As we have said before, we are both lucky to have stunning parents. They supported us when we told them we wanted to be a screenwriter and actress, they supported us as we began writing a book, and at every turn since. We are sorry you will always have to worry we are about to be broke, but thank you for rooting for us as we pursue these long-shot goals. We know the success we have now and in the future is because of your love.

  And to you, the person reading this: Thank you for sticking with us and Evelyn through everything. One thousand pages later and you’re still here, which is pretty incredible and a little terrifying. Thank you so much for reading. We are so thrilled this story resonated with you. Most of all, we hope you know how extraordinary you are, whether your powers are superhuman or not.

  Love,

  Kelly and Tarun

  About the Authors

  Kelly Zekas, a New York University graduate, writes, acts, and reads in New York City. YA is her absolute favorite thing on Earth (other than cupcakes), and she has spent many hours crying over fictional deaths. She also started reading Harlequin romances at a possible too-early age (twelve?) and still loves a good historical romance. You can sign up for email updates here.

  Mild-mannered assistant by day, milder-mannered writer by night, Tarun Shanker is a New York University graduate currently living in Waltham, Massachusetts. His idea of paradise is a place where kung fu movies are projected on clouds, David Bowie’s music fills the air, and chai tea flows freely from fountains. You can sign up for email updates here.

  Together, they are the authors of These Vicious Masks and These Ruthless Deeds.

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  Copyright © 2018 by Tarun Shanker and Kelly Zekas

  A Swoon Reads Book

  An imprint of Feiwel and Friends and Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC

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  First trade paperback edition 2018

  eBook edition February 2018

  eISBN 9781250183057

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-
Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Copyright